A Series of Interpretations by Richard Castle
by Lily McIntire
Summary: RC muse-inspired scenes that didn't quite make the Nikki Heat books. Both the inspiration, followed by the scene. If it's aired, it's game - nothing finale. Emphasis, S4.


A Series of Interpretations** by** **Richard Castle**

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_A/N: Every chapter will switch from C&B, to Nikki and Rook (minus the first). The Nikki/Rook scenes are little translations of events that happen between Castle and Beckett, whether they made it into the NH books or not. Most of it, not. ;)_ _First one is from 4x01. Spoilers for S4._

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"Rook, I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner."

"Me too. Should have done something sooner."

"What do we do now?"

"Well, the case is over. We already got drinks."

"Too many drinks. Let's walk it off?" She reaches for his hand after he nods to her suggestion. It was definitely high school, hand-holding, but she needed the simple comfort, now that they were okay again.

He gives his palm to her gladly, squeezing as she laces their fingers. She squeezes back, dumb happiness swelling in his stomach. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Either way…

"I'm in love." He was looking at her like a little boy would his beloved mother, grinning from ear-to-ear, pressing his bicep into her shoulder. Her teeth parted, opting for a growing smile instead of words. The words fell out of her smile, anyway.

"You are?" She playfully lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes ma'am." All smiles.

"With whom?"

"Secret." Keeping their fingers knit tightly together, he spun around her back, pulling her arm slightly behind her as he settled on her right side, using his free arm to wrap around her waist, fingers brushing against the prominent hip bone below. His arm fit so perfectly, like that spot had always been meant for his arm and no one else's.

"Oh, then you don't have to tell me." She too slipped her arm around his waist as they walked to nowhere, hands clasped behind their backs, holding each other. She liked the way this position kept them pressed closely together. She needed the closeness.

He hadn't expected her to give up just like that. "You don't want to know?"

She looked up to find his eyes, which were coincidentally trying to find hers. But no such coincidence existed – it was instinct, knowing each other, that their relationship relied so heavily on…eyes. "Of course I want to know. But if it's a secret, then it's a secret. Nothing I can do." She smiled up at him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. His fingers were in her hair and on her neck in an instant, caressing, holding her there. Harmless touching. Just because he could. "Though I do have a guess."

He perked at the mention of a guess, the possibility of a game between them. "What? What's your guess? I'll give you two hints, because you can only guess once." His fingers stroked her cheek; she poked them from inside of her mouth with her tongue. He retreated.

"I'll do my very best to listen well."

"Hint number one: she drives a mini-van." What was he -? "And hint number two: Her legs are short."

"What the hell?" She stopped walking, faced him within their embrace.

"Those were your hints. Problem?" He was as confused as she was.

"Uh, duh! Neither of those are me." She drew in slow breaths, was this a cruel joke?

"…exactly." He let go of her, looked down at his feet, shuffling them. The night was suddenly cold, her jacket warding off none of the things his arms could.

"I suppose I don't understand, then. Who are you in love with?" She was desperate to hear his voice, have his hands back on her. God, oh God _why_ did her life have to be full of broken hearts and minds?

"Um. You." His cheeks were red and bashful; the lighthearted game now serious, making him nervous.

"You're in love with me." It was meant as a question. But. She was still confused.

"I'm in love with you. Aren't you…?" With him. He was too prideful to ask outright. Why was any of this being questioned?

"Very much so." She stepped closer to him, cupping his face with her hands. "So what's with the hints, mister? You have someone else on the side?" She rubbed at nothing on his cheek, stood on her toes to be level with his icy blue eyes.

"The hints didn't seem to help you guess."

"No."

"They made you upset. Why?" He cradled her body against his, boring into her eyes with love, and patience. The patience that kept her with him.

"I don't drive a mini-van, and I definitely do not have short legs." Trying to piece the puzzle together, she snuck in to his cheek, buried a kiss there, and plucked one from his lips, soft and warm in the cool spring night.

"Erm…exactly. Very un-you." Blue eyes wandering her face, he searched for clues as to where he made a mistake. "The hints ruled out any other woman your age. They only left you to guess." He smiled, pleased with himself, even if she hadn't caught on.

"Rule out…? Hints are supposed to be characteristics of the answer, you man." Picking her fingers in his hair, she lingered near his lips, glad to be his, and glad he was hers.

"No. Hints are hints! They don't have rules; otherwise they're just…boring." Hands massaged the soft muscles of her upper back, coiled from her work.

"My job is oriented around rules, and you really seem to like it." The tips of her fingers danced around his collar.

"Maybe that's only 'cos I really like _you_." His voice turned sultry and low, taking her lips. She sighed into his mouth, pulling away despite the goodness he had for her, there.

"Like me enough to be in love with me." A devilish grin pressed against the curvature of his mouth.

"Like you enough to make sweet, passionate love with you all night." He licked her, like a boy. A boy with a really, really talented tongue. "But first…"

"First, what?" Holding him away from her, she gave him a cautionary tell. She'd had enough fleeting emotion tonight to last, thinking she'd lost him, to winning him in ways she couldn't have imagined, to this most recent miscommunication and feelings of betrayal, to promises of a sleepover, and now...this.

The light that spread from the upturned corners of his mouth, to his cheeks, that settled in his eyes warmed her heart, blanketing her shivering soul. "Look where we are." She looked, acknowledging only then where it was she had stopped them, unknowingly. It was a small playground encased in a rectangle of wood chips, empty and welcoming in these late evening hours.

"Wanna swing?" He offered her his hand.

"With you, Jameson Rook? Always."


End file.
